The Alpha's Forbidden Love

Qetsiya knew they were close before she heard them. It was the way the forest changed. The air felt tighter, like it was closing in on her, like even the wind was holding its breath. Her feet kept moving, fast, uneven, slipping through wet earth and broken branches, but her body was already screaming at her to stop. She didn’t. She couldn’t. “Don’t slow down,” he said beside her. She wasn’t planning to. But she still glanced at him. That was her first mistake. He wasn’t keeping up anymore. His steps weren’t as sure, his breathing wasn’t as controlled, and even in the dark, under that cursed red moon, she could see it: the strain. The way his body was already starting to give in. “You’re not okay,” she said. “I don’t need to be,” he replied. That answer didn’t sit right with her. Nothing about tonight did. The moon hung low above them, swollen and red, painting everything in a color that didn’t belong to the living. Qetsiya had seen blood moons before, but never like this. Never with this kind of weight pressing down on her chest. It felt like the night was watching them. Waiting. They broke into the clearing almost at the same time, and she stopped before she even realized she had. “This is it,” she said, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything at all. When she turned to him, her chest tightened. He looked worse up close. Not tired. Not weak. Worse. There was blood already at the corner of his mouth. “You’re already breaking,” she said, stepping closer. “You can’t do this.” “I can,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound like him anymore. It sounded… thinner. Like it was being pulled out of him. She shook her head immediately. “No. We wait. We find another way—” “There is no other way.” That shut her up. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Like he had already decided how this night was going to end. Her hand moved to her stomach without thinking, pressing lightly, like she could shield what was inside her from everything happening around them. “They’ll kill me,” she said. “They’ll do worse than that,” he replied. A heavy silence fell between them for a second. “Then do it,” she said. He looked at her then. “You don’t look back,” he said. She frowned. “What?” “When it opens,” he continued, ignoring her, “you go. You don’t stop. You don’t look back.” “I’m not leaving you here,” she said immediately. Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not frustration. Something worse. “You already are.” That hit harder than she expected. Before she could respond, he stepped away from her, creating distance, and lifted his hands slightly. And just like that, everything changed. The air shifted first. Not wind. Not movement. Something deeper. It pressed against her skin, slid under it, wrapped around her chest until it was hard to breathe. He closed his eyes, and when he started speaking, she didn’t understand a single word. But she felt them. Every syllable landed like weight, like something ancient was being dragged into the present. The ground beneath her vibrated faintly. “Stop,” she said, her voice tighter now. “You’re doing too much—” Blood ran from his nose. She froze. It didn’t stop. It got worse. It slipped over his lips, down his chin, staining his shirt, but he didn’t wipe it away. He didn’t even react to it. “You’re killing yourself,” she said, stepping forward. “I know,” he said. That made her chest tighten. “Then stop!” “I can’t.” The light started small. Just a flicker beneath her feet. Then it spread. Slow at first, then faster, crawling outward, circling her, rising like it was alive. Her heart started pounding. “This isn’t right,” she whispered. “It’s the only way,” he said, his voice breaking now. More blood followed. This time from his eyes. She took a step back without meaning to. Not because she was afraid of him. Because she could feel it—the power. It wasn’t stable. It wasn’t safe. It was tearing through him. “Please,” she said, softer now. “Please stop.” He didn’t. The light surged higher, brighter, swallowing the space around her until she couldn’t see the ground clearly anymore. And then the forest behind them exploded. She turned this time. She couldn’t help it. They were there. Stepping out of the trees like shadows that had finally taken shape. Too many. Too close. Her heart dropped. “They found us…” she whispered. “Go,” he said. She shook her head. “No—” “Qetsiya, go!” She didn’t move. She couldn’t. He was still standing there, barely holding himself together, and they were closing in fast. The first one reached him. Everything happened too quickly after that. A strike from the side. Hard. It forced him down to one knee. She gasped. “Stop!” Another one came. Then another. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t speak. They just attacked. And he didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. Not while holding the Veil open. “GO!” he shouted, his voice tearing through everything. The light behind her pulled harder. She stumbled slightly, her body dragging backward even as she tried to move forward. “I’m not leaving you!” she screamed. Another strike landed. This one changed everything. He didn’t get back up. Something inside her snapped. A scream tore out of her chest, raw and broken, the kind of sound that didn’t feel human anymore… And the Veil reacted. The light surged violently, wrapping around her, pulling her in before she could reach him. Before she could touch him. Before she could do anything. The last thing she saw was his body collapsing. Then everything went white. And she was gone.